


since i met you baby (love's got a hold on me)

by acheybones



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, BAMF Sarah Rogers, Because of Memory Loss, Brock Rumlow is a dick, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Foster Care, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Memory Loss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Overboard AU, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rewrite, Rich Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sassy Bucky Barnes, bucky barnes says eat the rich, but not between steve and bucky, canon fell off a boat and drowned, southern bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheybones/pseuds/acheybones
Summary: He isn't sure when it started. When he met Brock, life had felt full of joy. The promise of a life full of the love and consistency he had craved for so long.At least, until they got married. Then, he was hastily reacquainted with the feeling of loneliness that he had spent his whole life cultivating. It was lke slipping the ring on his finger had severed whatever thin red string had held them together.+or, Steve Rogers was miserable. Bucky Barnes just wanted to get even.an Overboard (1987) au.(title from "fooled around and fell in love" by elvin bishop)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	since i met you baby (love's got a hold on me)

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this a few months ago but it felt really rushed and i wasn't proud of it, so i re-wrote it and now we have this. please let me know what you think! i hope you enjoy! ❤️

Steve likes to think he was happy once. He would had to have been, right? His mom always said he was a happy baby. Toddling through lush, green gardens in the spring, then sledding through the same gardens in the New York winter. Maybe he had been bounced around between a few nannies, sometimes going weeks without seeing his mother or father while they were preoccupied with work, but he had to have been happy at some point.

Steve wishes he could remember, because he's miserable now.

He isn't sure when it started. When he met Brock, life had felt full of joy. The promise of a life full of the love and consistency he had craved for so long.

At least, until they got married. Then, he was hastily reacquainted with the feeling of loneliness that he had spent his whole life cultivating. It was like slipping the ring on his finger had severed whatever thin red string had held them together. He thinks that deep down, very deep down, Brock might be a good man, but Steve stopped digging after they exchanged vows and it became apparent why Brock was in this marriage.

"You know, something, babe? This might do you some good. The seaside air would do wonders for your asthma." Brock was sat on the lounge next to Steve, assembling his skeet rifle to go shooting with his butler, Jasper.

Steve relaxed further back into his seat, gaze falling to the bruises on his thighs and how the robe he was wrapped in barely covered them up. It was a silk one from La Perla that Brock had gotten him for their anniversary. Well, Steve had picked it out. And ordered it. All Brock had really done was throw the box on their bed while Steve had been reading and mumbled a "happy anniversary" before slipping back out into the New York night to do God knows what. He attempted to pull the robe further to cover his thighs, to no avail.

Brock stood, dropping a heavy hand onto Steve's shoulder and a chaste kiss on the crown of his head. "You're the only person I know who could find a way to bitch about being on a million-dollar boat. Try and keep yourself occupied, hmm?"

"Someone has to be here when the mechanic arrives." Steve stood, stepping aside from his husband and towards their cabin, slamming the door behind him. "And it certainly wouldn't be you."

They had been marooned in a Georgia marina for the last two days, and Steve would be lying if he said it wasn't starting to wear at him, at least a little. Georgia was nice enough. Good food and good weather, if you could look past the near constant humidity and ninety degree days. Steve knew he wasn't being fair, just being aggravated by his own issues, but he had to take it out on someone, right?

***

"Hey, Barnes! Got a job for you down at the port!" Sam yelled out the window of the trailer that doubled as their makeshift office, nestled under a large oak tree in the corner of the lot. Bucky tossed the last of his sandwich in his mouth, wiping his hands on his jeans before letting himself into the office. Sam pulled the pink work order ticket out of his reach.

"How are you feeling today? Good? Had lunch? Not in a particular mood to get sassy with anyone?" Sam raised an eyebrow at the brunette, the paper held up behind his head.

"Just peachy, Wilson." The fact that the job was down by the marina hadn't slipped Bucky's mind. The marina meant ships. Massive, expensive ships that had entire rooms dedicated to their engines running properly. Ships that were usually owned by hoity-toity snobs who looked at Bucky like had had just stumbled out of an alleyway. He much rather spend his afternoon working on a little old man's lawnmower, or maybe getting a root canal, but big ships meant big paychecks. So, Bucky put on the widest, stupidest grin he could muster and bit his tongue.

Sam relented- because he knew Bucky was one of the best men he had on staff, and Wilson Machinery was in no place to turn down this big of a job- and handed the ticket to Bucky.

Sam was probably the closet thing that Bucky had to a family, and damn sure the closest thing he had to a friend. Sam had found him bouncing between Georgian street corners after he had aged out of the foster care system, and didn't hesitate to offer him a warm couch and a hot meal.

He taught Bucky to repair anything with an engine, and got him working for the garage Sam had been employed by at the time. Bucky is pretty sure he even saw Sam and his wife, Maria, both shed a tear whenever he had managed to rent a tiny cottage outside of town by the beach and finally moved out of their living room. It wasn’t much, but it was Bucky’s.

Bucky wasn't a pro at many things, but he was great with his hands. He had lived with one foster family whose mother taught piano, and he learned "Your Song" by Elton John to impress a kid in his class named Casey. His foster mother had sent him packing when she realized that Casey was a boy.

Whenever Sam branched out and started his own repair company, it had only made sense to bring Bucky on as his right hand man. He was efficient and he was fast. But, if you needed someone to play nice all day with a bunch of rich people on a yacht, he might not be your guy.

Still, he hauled himself up into the cab of his truck, cursing to himself when he realized he had lost his keys again.

"Hey, Barnes? You forgetting something?" Dugan asked, walking up to the driver's side of Bucky's truck and dangling the keys in front of his face before tossing them through the open window. Bucky looked down to his jeans and noticed the hole in his pocket.

"Yeah, yeah, keep walking, Dum Dum."

***

On his off days, Bucky had been known to come out and sit on the sand early in the morning before it became too crowded. He had never been one for fishing from the pier, no matter how much Sam had tried, but there was a comfort in the repetition of the waves that he enjoyed. The sun just risen enough for him to be able to read, the only interruption being the ocean. It was nice.

However, the waters seemed to attract the wealthy like worms to compost. Bucky prefers the worms.

The marina is fairly empty when he pulls into the parking area, lone from one boat with it’s ramp down on the dock. When Bucky got close enough to take one step on the plank, someone he could only describe as an angel blocked his path.

Bucky meant angel in every sense of the word. The boy had blonde hair waved from the salty air, bangs flipped over his forehead, blue eyes Bucky wanted to swim in, yada yada yada.

“Wilson Machinery, I presume?” The boy had a deeper voice than Bucky had anticipated. He was dressed in a baby blue sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and cut-off black shorts that fell well above his knees. He wasn’t dressed in Louis Vuitton logos, but Bucky had never heard anyone use “I presume” in a sentence, so he knew he was in the right place.

“That’s me. Well, that’s my boss. Bucky Barnes, at your service.” Boy, did Bucky mean it. He didn’t extend a hand to Bucky, so Bucky just gave a small nod in lieu of extending his own and looking like an idiot.

Right about that moment, the smell of beer hit harder than walking into a frat house on Halloween. A tall brunette appeared behind the blonde carrying a rifle, with a bald man following behind him.

“Hope Mr. Rumlow isn’t causing you too much trouble.” The taller man said, throwing an arm over the boy’s shoulders, swaying so hard to the left Bucky thought he was going to fall on top of him. The man was wasted at one in the afternoon, going to shoot with his butler. Bucky thought rich people were a few beers short of a twelve-pack.

“Rogers. And I was handling it, Brock." Angel boy said, voice dripping venom while he not-so-subtly moved from underneath the man’s arm. With his arms no longer crossed over his chest, Bucky could see the rock on his left hand in all it’s sun-glinting glory. So the drunk was his husband.

"I'm sure you were, sweetheart, but the big boys are talking now.”

“We do need to be on our way, Master Rumlow. I’m sure Steve can handle it” The bald-headed man piped up from behind who Bucky assumed was Brock.

So the angel’s name was Steve, and Steve had bad taste in men.

“Of course!” Brock turned back towards Bucky. “We’ve leased a private range for the afternoon.” As Brock and the presumed butler made their way down the ramp to a waiting car- the only one other than Bucky’s truck, he realized- Bucky turned back to Steve.

"Do you really think it's safe for him to be shooting like that?" Bucky asked, looking in the direction of where the gunshot had come from.

"I don't suppose that's any of your business. Is it, Mr. Barnes?" Steve smiled at that. The little bastard smiled the smuggest grin that Bucky had ever seen, though all of the venom he had reserved for his husband was gone. Hearing Steve speak in such a formality sent Bucky's stomach twisting.

"Bucky. Just Bucky, please." Bucky said, desperately trying to look anywhere else than at Steve's legs in his cut-offs.

Steve shrugged, walking away towards the engine room without looking to see if Bucky was following.

***

When Bucky returned to the main deck from the engine room, Steve was leaning against the railing, absent-mindedly twisting his wedding ring and staring down at the ocean.

“Careful, might lose it to the sea.” Bucky tried, giving a knowing smile. Steve didn’t take the bait.

“So, can you fix it?” Steve crossed his arms back over his chest again, tucking his left hand back between his ribcage and his elbow.

“Of course. It’s a fairly simple fix, just a part to replace. We should have you folks sailing again by the end of the week.” Bucky said, wiping oil and grease from his hands on a rag before slipping it loosely back in his pocket.

“The end of the week?!” Steve said incredulously.

“What? You don’t like Georgia?” Bucky said. He really didn’t mean to be a smart-ass. Honest.

“No, I just don’t like impertinent mechanics.” Steve put his hands on the tiniest waist Bucky had ever seen on a man, and Bucky tried not to get distracted. “Why does a ‘fairly simple fix’ take all week?”

“Because I have to get the part in before I can repair it, Mr. Rogers. I promise, I want nothing more than to get this boat out of the marina as quickly as humanly possible.”

Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again, muttering “Not quick enough.”

Bucky scoffed out a laugh, then shoved a finger in the direction the car Brock had gotten into drove off in, "Don't act like I'm the one you're really mad at, princess."

And he was right. Bucky wasn't who Steve was mad at. Still, that didn't stop Steve from grabbing Bucky's tool bag by the strap and slinging it over the railing.

Bucky saw red at the same time he saw his tools sailing through the air and into the water.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Bucky yelled, not realizing he had essentially cornered Steve against the railing and caged him in with his arms, easily a foot taller than the particularly pissed off blonde. "Is your life so god damn boring that you have to fuck with innocent people? That's the problem with people like you. You just think the whole world is supposed to stop turning to cater to whatever your little twink heart desires, don't you? You think that just because the little rich boy wants it, it has to happen right now, huh? God forbid you exercise any fucking patience at all.”

Steve shoved both hands against Bucky's chest, surprising strength almost pushing Bucky down the ramp, "Get away from me, and get off my boat!"

***

“Hey man, it’s not that big of a deal. You can borrow some tools for me. I’ll overnight the part tomorrow, replace it myself, and split the profit with you.” Sam said, hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Leave it to Sam to still think of helping Bucky. Bucky shifted on the couch in the Wilson-Hill living room that he had called a bed for so long, hanging his head in his hands.

“It’s not the tools, Sam. You didn’t see how he looked at me.” _Like you weren’t good enough. Like he saw the way you stared and found it laughable. Like you were the scum of the Earth._ “Like he was better than me.” Bucky said finally.

“Rich people are strange, Bucky.” Maria offered, walking in the living room to bring a beer to her husband. She offered a second one to Bucky who held a hand up in decline. “You said so yourself, sometimes they just want something to bitch about.” Maria shrugged before walking back into the kitchen and leaving the two men alone.

“You should’ve seen his fucking husband, Sam. Absolute idiot, hammered out of his mind in the middle of the afternoon.” Bucky shook his head.

Sam let out a groan, leaning back into the couch. “There it is!”

“There’s what?”

“You had the hots for ‘im. That’s why you’re feeling sorry for yourself instead of being pissed off that he tossed your tools overboard.” Sam said, taking a long swallow from his drink.

Bucky thought for a minute. Sure, he had thought Steve was attractive. Sure, he probably would have hit on him in a different context. And sure, he thought he was much more of a catch than the man Steve had ended up with.

But Bucky didn’t think that’s what hurt. What hurt was the fact that Steve probably did think he was too good for Bucky. And, maybe Bucky was starting to believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](http://twitter.com/acheyb0nes) and [tumblr](http://acheybones.tumblr.com) if you're into that


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